Dr Strangemaus
by The Mouse Avenger
Summary: What's this? The cast of "Dr. Strangelove" have been turned into...rodents! Be prepared to take a brand-new look at everyone's favorite nuclear comedy! Alternate Universe. Read & review, but no flames, please!


**DR. STRANGEMAUS**

AUTHOR'S NOTES: After spending the last several months cultivating my ever-growing obsessions for "_The Great Mouse Detective_" & "_Dr. Strangelove_"--my newest fandom discovery--I have decided to merge the two together...by coming up with a rodential retelling of our beloved nuclear comedy. Yes, my friends, the cast of "_Dr. Strangelove_" has been turned into mice, rats, & even bats...but aside from some changes I've taken to make the story more mouse-like, the plotline will be basically the same as it was in the original movie.

And now, for a brief copyright-&-disclaimer...

All characters, properties, & elements of "_Dr. Strangelove_" (C) Stanley Kubrick & Columbia Pictures, although I claim ownership to the rodential versions of these characters, & the parodies I came up with for the names.  
All original characters, properties, & elements (C) The Mouse Avenger (that's me).

When you're finished reading the story, feel free to leave a review. I'll take anything from simple comments to constructive criticism, as long as they're not flames or written in a harsh, stern, or mercilessly-nitpicky manner.

That having been said, enjoy the story! Happy reading!

* * *

Prologue:

The Task That Lies Ahead

The small office that had been built behind the wall of the general's quarters at Burpleson--or, shall we say, _Furpleson_--Air Force Base was dark, save for a small lamp (made out of a Christmas-tree light-bulb, with an upside-down peanut-butter-cup cover as its lampshade) that was glowing on the oak-wood desk belonging to General Jack D. Whiskers. Dressed in white shirt-sleeves & olive-green trousers, as well as a black necktie, the military mouse (covered in gray fur, & sporting a neat, brown crew-cut) was resting in a red leather armchair, calmly smoking a pint-sized cigar as he reflected upon the task that needed to be done in a few minutes.

It was to be a very difficult task. General Whiskers had no doubt about that. The more he thought about it, the more his paws shook, & the more his heart began to race...but it soon slowed its beating when Whiskers chastised himself for getting so worked up over nothing. _For the love of Gouda, _he thought, _you can't turn back now! It's far too late to quit now, Jack...You've come all this way, & now, you've got to finish what you started. You have to reap what you have sown...That's the proper way to do things, Jack!_

In spite of his determination to carry on with the mission, General Whiskers couldn't quite rid himself of that nervous feeling that had plagued him ever since he had made that fateful decision...His sense of duty was far stronger, but the feeling of hidden terror--that he would come to be haunted by what he was about to do--continued to plague him. It had never really _stopped _plaguing him, ever since he had first been struck with the idea...the idea for the course of action that he was soon to take.

Why couldn't General Whiskers just put his feelings aside & accept his duties, like any other military furson would? These were times of crisis, & fursonal feelings couldn't get in the way of professional business...or so _he_ thought, anyway. Some of his fellow rodents at Furpleson Air Force Base were a little more sensitive than he was...but sensitive though they were, they were definitely _not_ weak, lily-livered sissies. _Especially_ not who he considered to be the best of all his mice...Group Captain Lionel C. Mousedrake, formerly of Her Majesty's Rodential Air Force.

General Whiskers couldn't help but smile whenever he thought about Group Captain Mousedrake...He liked him. He really liked him a lot. He was a good mouse, well-behaved & never disrespectful to anybody. He had his charms & handsome looks. He was always polite, & did what he was told...& whenever he was called away to action, that lion-hearted hero would give every last bit of his effort in order to fight the enemy & make sure that he was able to aid in the defense of the good rodents of the United States. Yes, that Mousedrake was quite a character, indeed...& in the months that he had come to know the younger officer, General Whiskers considered him as a dear friend. Almost like the brother he never had...

General Whiskers' sentimental thoughts on Mousedrake suddenly switched back to his earlier thoughts on the task that lay ahead...that dreaded cross that he sometimes wished (in the very back of his head) that the hands of Fate had never handed down to him, & yet, he knew he had to bear, anyway! Wanting to see how much longer he would have to wait until the moment of truth arrived, Whiskers looked up at the human-sized Mickey Mouse watch hanging upon the wall of his office, & glanced at the time displayed upon it: 12:59...no, 1:00 AM. General Whiskers sighed as he turned his head away from the clock, & looked at the big red telephone that rested on his desk. It was time, General Whiskers decided. It was time to take up that cross & carry it as far as he could go...& he planned to go pretty far.

With a tremoring paw that seemed to betray his anxiousness, General Whiskers tried to keep his composure as he reached for the phone, picked it up, & put it to his notched right ear. With his free paw, he dialed a number on the rotary, & as he waited patiently for an answer on the other line, he quietly drummed his fingers against the surface of his desk, & took a drag of his cigar. He exhaled a cloud of gray smoke, just as the dial tone finished beeping, & a click was heard. Someone had picked up the phone...& now, he was going to deliver Whiskers' message to Group Captain Lionel Mousedrake.


End file.
